


Antistar

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [82]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Collars, HYDRA Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Ownership, Past Abuse, Scent Marking, Slavery, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: On paperwork, Brock owns him.  Behind locked doors though, he's not quite sure who owns whom.





	Antistar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).

> _Can you lick my wounds please_   
_Can you make it numb_   
_And kill the pain like cortisone_   
_And grant me intimacy_   
_How'll we split your chromosomes_   

> 
>   
I was assigned to one of my favourite people for this exchange and I couldn't be happier. 💙💙💙 

“You get why I had to bring ya ‘ome, don’t ya?” Brock asks pointedly with a frown, though he’s not really that annoyed about it.

Jack won’t peer up at him, his eyes affixed to the floor where he sits on his knees, his posture hunched and he’s curled into himself in a way to try and make his body seem smaller. His shoulders are tense, inward, and he’s holding himself still so desperately; signs that he’s stressed and awaiting proper punishment for his actions. Brock had thought they’d figured all this out before,  _ did _ figure all this out, but sometimes they end up taking steps back. Especially when Jack thinks he’s done something so bad, so unforgiving, that he assumes the worst and believes Brock will send him back from where he brought him from, or would even go as far as abusing him like his last owner.

It still bothers Brock that he doesn’t know the extent, but there’s enough signs to tell him it was bad. Alphas should not act the way Jack does, they’re not born to cower or have themselves exposed in vulnerable positions like knelt down on the floor trying to look small.

“Look up, Jack.” Brock orders, knows he needs direct commands right now or he’ll continue feeling lost and unsettled.

Jack’s green eyes slowly roam up and finally he ashamedly meets Brock's own.

They’re only tethered by a leash that’s clasped at the back of Jack’s alpha-designated collar, strong runes embedded into the thick black leather. There were strict laws in place stating every owner had to keep it on their wolves at all times to prefer any  _ issues _ and Brock pushes aside how much he hates them, continually keeping the leash loose in his hand. 

His mouth quirks in a knowing smile, thinking back to earlier before he jerks his chin to encourage Jack to try. “I know ya know what I’m askin’, Jackie. Now speak up, what didja do wrong?”

Jack’s mouth shifts slightly, his lips lightly pressed together; he looks like he’s about to say something but then decides against it. Instead he goes to drop his gaze away again but Brock’s already prepared for that, giving the leash a small pull and it’s enough to cause the runes to glow a soft pale blue. It’s nothing that hurts Jack, but he can see by the way his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare, Brock knows his dislike for it. It’s a better reaction than hiding, or when he didn’t even try to do anything, half alive and barely eating. When he was too broken to care anymore.

Brock’s smile shifts to amusement over Jack’s slight shift in mood. “Oh I see now, do we got differin’ opinions on what ‘appened? Ya don’t think what ya did was wrong, do ya?” 

After a long contemplative pause, Jack slowly shakes his head, peeking up at him. He’s unsure if he can have a choice if it means disagreeing with Brock, even if they’ve talked about this a few times. 

“Was it because he touched me?”

He watches Jack’s entire body tense, his hands balling up as he makes a noise that’s almost a snarl. (He can be as human as anyone else, but when Jack’s showing teeth,  _ his real ones _ \- all sharp and dangerous, that’s when he’s perceived as a real threat and people get a little nervous.) Jack ducks his head down, like he realizes what he just did isn’t allowed, eventually he nods in response.

“But you’ve seen other people touch me.” Brock points out slowly, he’s unsure of if Jack understands that it can mean so many things. “Earlier today, I was shakin’ hands with Sam over his grant acceptance, Steve and I were boxin’ each other, even in the mornin’ Bucky showed up and he gave me a hug. Remember?” 

Jack is quiet, a line of a frown across his face but he’s clearly pondering all those interactions to himself. Brock knows he’s forming a proper answer, those brows of his coming together before they relax, then come back again to another thought, studying Brock’s face before staring past his shoulder again. He slowly licks his lips, parts them before pressing them together again and going through the motions once more, his frown appears as his eyes narrow just a touch.

“He t-touched you..” Jack hates when he stutters, nostrils flaring in sheer annoyance as he exhales heavily through his nose over it, glaring at Brock’s feet. It’s residual evidence of the severe trauma he’s had to endure in his past, finds it embarrassing that he can’t control it. 

“He..he  _ g-grabbed  _ at you, your wrist. Too m-m- “ He lurched forward slightly, as if he was physically battling his words. “Too tight.”

Jack body sags as their gazes meet again a brief moment before he fixates just at his throat because he’s more comfortable there, seemingly relieved to finally be able to say that all out loud. 

“And he smells t-terrible.” Jack adds, almost petulantly despite his impediment, to Brock’s delight. 

A grin appears across Brock’s face outright. “Yeah, he did. He was bein’ an egotistical asshole and thought I shoulda been listenin’ to what he was sayin’ instead of leavin’ his dumb ass where it was.”

He can’t help sounding thrilled about it. He was no damsel, far from it; but there was a time Jack wouldn’t come near him and then, eventually, he warmed up to him and did.

Unfortunately, it meant he didn’t allow anyone else near Brock during that time, didn’t like any sort of touch directed his way. Brock worked hard to get Jack out of the mindset that Brock was  _ his _ to defend with no leeway, and to recognize good touches versus the bad ones. It was why Jack would always stay home when Brock wanted to be out with his friends for the most part and ignored the suggestion someone had made about muzzling him so he could still come along.

Today though, today was the day Brock had decided he could possibly take him a few homes down, to Bucky’s place, one of the handful of people Jack finally became accustomed to seeing. He just didn’t have the hindsight of knowing the small little get together also included the creepy neighbor from down the road. Most of the time the man did things that were easily brushed off, but to an abused werewolf who didn’t know social cues on when enough was enough, it wasn’t something he would stand for after being exposed to it for the first time.

“I guess it was a bad touch, warranted fer yer ire.”

Jack relaxes a little more, just a little, continually on full alert because he knows what he did was still seen as something wrong. His eyes gradually creep upwards.

“You know by law, what ya did was punishable. You lunged at Michael over the h'orderves table, takin’ it down along with him and almost snapped his goddamn wrist off. Ya made a real mess of Buck’s place, of yerself and caused a panic in the room.” Brock’s reciting things he knows by heart by now, but he can’t find himself to sound authoritative about it. Instead he smiles fond when Jack attempts to shrink down again. “But, then again. He knew ya belonged to me, and that asshole ‘ad it comin’ for a long while. Was well aware what was gonna ‘appen, even if he was too fuckin’ stupid to realize it. Provokin’ an alpha is some dumbass shit even with his owner right there to stop ‘im. I don’t think ya did anythin’ wrong m’self, and if yer under my roof the only laws ‘ere are my own.”

Jack brightens up to that and a flare of pride blooms in Brock’s chest whenever he does it. Shifting in slightly closer as he stays on his knees, Jack tilts his head just a little and Brock can’t help himself when he reaches out, threads a hand through dark hair, his nails softly scratching across his scalp in unspoken permission. Jack accepts quickly, no hesitation in closing in the bit of space between them just so he can press up against Brock’s legs and lean into the touch. A deep, throaty rumble emits from Jack’s chest and his eyes slip closed as if in a state of euphoria.

Brock loves that sound, loves the way he looks when Jack does it. He loves watching him slowly coming out of his shell the more Brock works with him. He’s never really put time into werewolves like this before, mainly just a middle man to sell and barter with and take a cut. They’re common like dogs but treated as more of an advanced level in pet ownership though it still never stopped anyone and their mother from owning one, but that was a thing these days. 

Alpha’s were the most throwaway of them, a much too dominant personality people didn’t want to deal with, and like in Jack’s case, some other people took it a different way and relied on special muzzles to go along with it. Jack was much too special to be treated in that way, found on the verge of death and emaciated at the edge of Dr.Wilson’s property. He’d been through hell and back; tortured with cuts and burns, beaten and bruised, tests even showed his system poisoned with herbal mixtures made to keep a werewolf at bay, to weaken them and most likely it was how they were controlling him before tossing him off. Jack was lucky they were dumb enough to practically dump him on a veternarian’s doorstep.

Brock was there only by chance, a momentary visit to pick up some papers, but curiosity got the best of him and when he saw Jack, he offered up his home. Sam wasn’t in a position to house him anyway when he had other patients to tend to on the grounds and Jack was transported with him. The process of rehabilitating was a long dedicated one, but eventually he started to come around and understand Brock wasn’t there to hurt him, control him. Unfortunately, the understanding didn’t make it easier to get Jack to open up, he was still forced to wear a collar even though Brock technically wasn’t his owner, which to him meant he wasn’t free.

But now here in the present, Jack doesn’t stare at Brock’s fingers after he flinches to them, a thought or two still cross his mind sometimes to bite first and take a punishment just to get his point across that he wanted to be left in peace, but never does. Jack was also less about pulling away and more into touch; to sense and feel, then soon after that: to scent Brock as someone who was under his protection. Brock really couldn’t fathom someone so callous as to hurting Jack the way they had, depriving him of everything and treating him like he was nothing. It kept him up at times.

The delicate pressure against his stomach brings Brock back. Jack’s resting his forehead against him there and Brock's hand has absently been petting through his soft hair. He trails his fingers down behind Jack’s ear, near the base of his skull, in the small places he likes most, rubs them there in little circles until Jack starts letting out coarse, rough sounds equivalent to purrs of the werewolf nature. Jack’s hands roam around his feet before they smooth along Brock’s heels, his large, strong hands cupping the backs of his calves after, caressing them gently before continue and then tuck behind Brock’s knees.

“Ain’t gonna lie, I woulda laughed if ya broke his fuckin’ wrist.” Brock says, smirking down at him.

Jack’s eyes open and his pupils dilate a little, Brock knows it’s not entirely just pride overtaking, it’s that it’s Brock being pleased with _ him _ . Brock balked at the idea of sex with weres, he wasn’t against it when others did it, it was a social norm to but he didn’t think it was right, fair even to use them in that manner unless it was a mutual and unprovoked decision by both parties which he still thinks strongly of when he peers down at the wolf before him.

He assumed Jack wouldn’t want anything to do with him in that way, that was all proven to be untrue when he began to notice he’d taken a liking to his bed..after Brock slept in it, after he’d done  _ things _ in it the night before when he was alone and hadn’t had someone to join him. 

Jack started to enter his bedroom, nostrils flaring and eyes darting around, this had been when he had begun putting his trust into him more and at first Brock didn’t pick up on it. He only realized when a pattern began forming, how Jack refused to move so the sheets could be changed and he laid out on them; Brock chalked it up to stupid werewolf things until he didn’t. 

He only understood later, that sometimes it wasn’t just a  _ sexual thing _ . Jack would stalk him around his own home, lurking around him more, asking without asking..for pets and touch because he was learning. Brock tried to ignore it but there was only so much you could do when you were equally attracted to the man trying to envelope you and scent you like you were  _ his _ .

“In this house, ya did good. So that means we should do somethin’ fun, yeah?” Brock offers, his fingers slipping under Jack’s chin to give him a gentle scratch there. The rumbled purring only grows louder, echoing off the walls and he can't help but grin wider over it. Jack makes him feel things, gets him excited and draws him in. He never wants to force him into anything though, refuses to take advantage. “Whadda ya think? Ideas?”

Jack idly moves his head, noses Brock’s wrist, lips drag across his skin as he takes deep breaths like he’s drunk off him, rubs his face into his arm, his hand, along his stomach, scenting him. Jack’s fingers clench and unclench against the back of Brock’s knees, kneads into them, knows those claws are itching to come out but he controls himself well. 

It’s the position on making choices he’s not good at, but Brock loves to watch him, loves admiring how fixated he becomes at the idea he’s  _ allowed _ to. Then he knows Jack begins thinking of all the things they can do, all of which Brock loves doing with him, no matter if it's just curled up on the couch together for a movie or something he’s curious about in the bedroom. He loves it all.

Jack tilts his head, rubs his cheek into the palm of Brock’s hand, presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Brock adores him so much. 

“Whatever ya feel like, Jackie. I’m all up fer it.”

As gentle as Jack’s nature is, he’s also an alpha werewolf and Brock is roughly pulled down to his level, onto his knees and they’re facing each other. He loves the power Jack has that he doesn’t use for anything but this, and to protect what he feels is rightfully his to protect. Jack just barely runs his nose along his throat, takes a bigger inhale here, processing all the scents and smells Brock picked up throughout the day. Eventually Jack drags his nose up along his jaw and to his ear, teeth grazing the lobe ever so slightly just before there’s a hot flick of Jack’s tongue that Brock shudders to. 

Brock pulls at Jack’s leash to get him to stop and does so almost immediately, knows it’s only because Brock wants to do the same, wants to rub his face into Jack’s skin and leave kisses there, a swell of pride takes over when Jack exposes his throat so openly and his large hands shift to fit over Brock’s hips. 

After a kiss to his chin, he peers at Jack, licking his lips before he leans in and kisses him on the mouth, tender and sweet. When he pulls back from it, Jack lets out a small, dissatisfied growl and Brock chuckles. He draws the leash a little more taut around his hand, pulls at Jack’s collar lightly. “Whadda ya want, sweetheart?” 

Jack finally smirks, it’s an expression that’s rare, a confidence Brock’s fighting to get him to bring out more often and they rise together as he claims Brock’s mouth, hot and open and all sharp teeth that Jack can’t help himself with.

Jack’s hands hold more tightly at his hips and Brock tries not to outright grin, his tongue exploring Jack’s mouth and licking at dangerous canines. He  _ does _ grin though when he’s effortlessly picked up and hoisted on Jack’s shoulder, allows himself to be carried into the bedroom.

Brock's back hits the covers and he stares up as Jack looms over him, tall and commanding; it’s what an alpha should look like all the time. Brock reaches out for him and Jack crawls over his body, hands sliding up under Jack’s shirt when he’s close enough and there’s that familiar rumble that Brock can feel vibrating through skin. 

Brock loves all of it. He loves that Jack is pleased like this, content and happy in his _their _bed together because Jack deserves everything good in this world forever and always.

It’s a promise Brock will always keep for as long as he’s alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Antistar - Massive Attack.


End file.
